


Memories of Music

by Keter



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, gatobob - Freeform, gurobob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keter/pseuds/Keter
Summary: He stopped and clutched the dark cords in his hands to his chest for a moment and sighed almost dreamily. “There’s a word for it, you know. I’m sure. I don’t remember it now. Feeling like you belong in another era. Or at least wanting a taste of it for yourself. Idealistic nostalgia. There must be something more concise…”





	

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8D3epKRfuk 
> 
> Listen to this while reading, if you would :)

Step, turn, step, turn.

Music spat jauntily from the speakers of an old radio, intersticed with static that only served to underline the age of the tune itself. Fifes and snares and low brass kept strict but cheerful time underneath a rousing chorus of voices. As the tune marched forward, a masculine figure danced about the room, feeding cords through his hands as he stepped in time. For the longest time, the man seemed lost in the song, as if he might never be returned to the present, content to spend the rest of his days marching to the urging of the drums.

“You know, I often forget my love for this music,” he said suddenly, his feet still moving to the tempo. He opened his eyes, his golden gaze fixed on nothing in particular as he spun. “Listen to how energetic it is! Armies marched to this, you know.” There was no response to this, but he smiled anyway, and it touched his eyes. “Every time I find my love for it again, I feel as if I could do nothing but listen to it, all day, for the rest of my life…”

He stopped and clutched the dark cords in his hands to his chest for a moment and sighed almost dreamily. “There’s a word for it, you know. I’m sure. I don’t remember it now. Feeling like you belong in another era. Or at least wanting a taste of it for yourself. Idealistic nostalgia. There must be something more concise…” He let the cords feed out through his fingers as he resumed his wide steps around the room. As the music picked back up, he began to first hum and then sing along to it, his voice rough at first as if unpracticed. It never lost all of its hoarse throatiness, but he seemed to be enjoying himself all the same, his voice matching the enthusiastic energy of the radio’s chorus. He was practically shouting the lyrics.

After a minute, he laughed, letting his voice drop from the chorus. “Do you even understand what I’m saying?” he asked, looping the cords around his fingers. He crouched down, tilting his head with another smile. “It’s German. You could tell that much, couldn’t you? Yeah, you’re a smart one.” He sung again, for a moment, in English, over the song. “ _And when all the dancing’s done, then it's time to have some fun! All us comrades love to fight! It is quite a rousing sight!_ ”

He laughed again and stood up, singing in German again, lost once more to the world as the song meandered to an end, only to be followed by yet another parading tune.

The whole affair was so loud, surely no one else would be able to hear the broken weeping of a mangled body hung in midair, suspended by dark cords.


End file.
